Hello, friends and neighbours!
I'm here at work, simultaneously trying to do some rewrites, find some rehearsal space for the days we have none, email production notes, and, of course, sell symphony subscriptions. In my free moments when I'm doing none of those things, I worry about the show and whether it will be brilliant, terrible, or forgettable and mediocre. And every time the phone rings, I want to say "People! Leave me alone! Can't you see I'm trying to run an independent theatre company here?"
But that can only be said in my inside voice. J is away this week, so I sit at home like a crazy woman, trying to make a tiny cardboard house for our poster (don't ask), wondering if I should just get a free photo from Morgefile instead.
However.
I had that workshop last week. And it was... well, I've been telling people who know those involved that it was interesting, and gave me food for thought. But in reality? When I don't have to worry about what I say getting back to anyone else? It was kind of a disaster. Here's some of what I had to say about it in a facebook message to a friend:
April 14 at 10:37am
So, I finally had my workshop on Monday... You may remember I gave "Artistic Director" the one date I was available about 3 weeks ago, and he was trying to work around (actor)'s schedule. So last Thursday, I email "Artistic Director" to ask if we're still doing this, and he says "Sure, who should I ask to be in it?"
What? Oh, you mean aside from the extensive list of actors we had talked about 3 months ago, none of whom are probably available on 3 days' notice?
So, I gave him some suggestions, and of course, no one was available. On Saturday I suggested we postpone rather than do it with random gender-appropriate people, and he said "let's wait till tomorrow to cancel. I hate it when this happens." But he does find some random girl to play (central character of play) at 9pm on Sunday.
So when I arrive, "artistic director"'s late. We eventually start, and it's going ok-ish, and at the act break we're going to the washroom and "artistic director" says to me: "You know, I don't think I've read this."
And I said "What do you mean you haven't read this? How can you have not read this? You're the one who sent me the pdf of the draft and asked me to confirm that this was the one we're using!"
And he didn't seem to think that was a problem. Turns out, he thought my play was the 25 pages or so that was read at "New Play Festival" 2 years ago, and that I'd just given up on it and hadn't worked on it since then. Which begs the question: why are you doing this workshop, are you offering me a production if you HAVEN'T READ THE PLAY?
And not reading the play doesn't exactly prepare you to guide a dramaturgically helpful discussion about said play. Which you haven't read. "Artistic director" just left me twisting in the wind during "feedback". Which was maddening, because
(lengthy paragraph describing the changes the actors insisted were neccessary to satisfy the audience, which would basically just turn the play into an episode of "Murder, She Wrote", followed by discussion of how "artistic director" couldn't help me out because he was so blown away that I'd finished writing the play.)
So naturally I went home feeling rather OUCH. Like I wasn't sure if I'd just wasted the last 3 years writing this, or if I'm wasting my time trying to get people to see my point of view. I really, really think that audiences are capable of so much more than people give them credit for. I think that an "unsatisfying" ending is neccessary sometimes. In fact, I think the ending of the play IS satisfying if you get the point of the play.
And so on. The point is, that really, really, sucked, and I would much rather have taken the day off of work and lounged around watching Days of Our Lives and eating strawberries and bagels with cream cheese.
Now, back to running a theatre company...
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